‘Melusine…Melusine. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. ” He consumed Irish stew for some moments. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident.
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