’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. CHAPTER XXX.
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