"My portrait!" echoed Jack. Melusine flung herself down the rest of the steps and through the doorway. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. “I know. He only stays here for you, hoping in vain. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. He filled her glass with champagne. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. “We will try and make you happy, my dear, so that you may learn that lovemaking is perhaps a little more than your idea of a woman’s duty. But, feeling secure of vengeance, he determined to abide his time.
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