Melusine gritted her teeth. ‘But you cannot expect that we will any of us remain altogether quiet,’ objected Melusine. This at once thrilled her and worried her. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. Forgive me. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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