All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check.
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