‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. She did not so much deal with Ann Veronica’s interpolations as dispose of them with quick and use-hardened repartee, and then she went on with a fine directness to sketch the case for her agitation, for that remarkable rebellion of the women that was then agitating the whole world of politics and discussion. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke.
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