The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. So she built a shrine. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. I have held people spellbound—in confidence, so that we may be sure of its spreading like wildfire—with an account of all Melusine’s activities, and—’ Horror filled Melusine and she jumped up. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. "How much is there in it!" "It contains gold," replied the lady; "but I will add this ring. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Gerald tried it.
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