The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts.
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