Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison.
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