She held out the foil. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. . Like a trollop in heat. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. He smiled complacently. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them.
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