" Spurlock lowered his voice. ‘Speak, then. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. At length, at the end of a passage, next to the cell where Mrs. Her efforts were vain. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there.
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