” At this point she had perceived that she was drifting from her subject. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. But Enschede took them as they came, without question. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ’ Gosse smiled and Melusine read triumph there.
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