Ten thousand islands, and each one good for a night's rest. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. ’ For a moment Melusine stared at him as she took in the full horror of his scheme. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour.
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