Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. He would take with him that traitress Yolande, and claim to the lawyer that this was Melusine Charvill. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow.
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