It took all my self control not to let my hands wander. Wood. ’ ‘Better than to live at the hands of a villainous blackmailer,’ Melusine threw at him. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman.
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