That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. Moving room to room it was. And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals. She could not bear the shame of it.
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