She noticed right away that Sheila was a two-sided coin. “John, don’t!” she cried. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. It isn’t illusions—for us. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required.
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