"I will not submit to be thus interrogated," said Winifred, angrily. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it.
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