The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched.
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