Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal—tonight he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor.
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