Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. The one problem was that it didn’t fly. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. ” “Delusion!” he muttered, glaring at her. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening.
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