He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. The Night-Cellar. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment.
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