To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. I should scarcely have known you. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him recoil from them in disgust. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister.
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