His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others.
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