Very well, then. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. “What are you doing?” He cried. "I forgot. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris.
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