Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. He slid out of her. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain.
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