She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. Next instant, Melusine’s blade sank into Gosse’s flesh. “You’re burning up. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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