’ Melusine heard a note of triumph in his voice and turned, a questioning look in her face. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. "I wouldn't give a betel-nut for a man who wouldn't stick to his guns, if he believed himself in the right. “But it makes me feel inhuman,” he added. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us.
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