. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. Unlocking it, he entered the chamber, which by no means belied its external appearance. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. ’ ‘Miss Melusine Charvill,’ he repeated, ‘is a convent-bred genteel girl, who is in all probability the granddaughter of General Lord Charvill. I have been used to living in apartments in Paris, but I suppose the system is different here. Morality tells you what is right, and adventure moves you. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor.
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