Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. Certainly I never met him. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks.
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