“Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard. ” He sprang to action. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. Melusine feigned a displeased frown.
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