’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. She turned her head away sharply. This business of love is the supreme affair in life, it is the woman’s one event and crisis that makes up for all her other restrictions, and I cower—as we all cower—with a blushing and paralyzed mind until it overtakes me!. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small. " After a moment Spurlock said: "Perhaps I am an ungrateful dog. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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