’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. “Tell him that he is mad.
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