The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. In the first place, it will be damnably dull. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her.
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