She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. ’ Quick remorse raced through Melusine’s veins, but she hit back strongly. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. "Good night!" "Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, "wait without.
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