So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. ‘You would say that already then you love me?’ His glance was a caress and Melusine’s resolve weakened. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.
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