Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel. " "Stand off, Sir!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting suddenly backwards.
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