But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. Soon I shall make my début, that it will be known that I am the real Melusine Charvill, and then I shall not require the services any longer of this imbecile of a Gérard.
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