’ They passed through a little antechamber, and Melusine sighed with relief as she entered the library next door. "I wouldn't give a betel-nut for a man who wouldn't stick to his guns, if he believed himself in the right. Plote was sleeping or deaf. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face.
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