She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Melusine tried to squash down, still trying to maintain her guard. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied.
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