’ ‘Emile Gosse,’ Melusine said flatly, in the same language. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. “For luck. ” She replied weakly. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat.
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