When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. Melusine’s eyes blazed into his. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth.
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