All that she had ever loved were gone, except Sebastian. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. ’ A peal of laughter came from the girl. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour.
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