“Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. “He wants to settle something on you, I believe. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. But this is all different. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort.
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