There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. Just one thing more. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. I am your servitor. ” “Have you been getting enough sleep lately, Martin?” He almost tripped. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone.
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