’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. ’ Shock threw Melusine’s heart out of kilter and she looked instinctively towards the major. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Don't be afraid, man,—off with it. She was wan and white. A maidservant held the front door open.
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