She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. Nevertheless, she was still fighting. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. The tables were then cleared. This time she was indeed beaten. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation.
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