She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. ‘I am not a murderer. ’ Gosse smiled and Melusine read triumph there. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Sheppard, attend to what I'm about to say to you. But this is all different. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey.
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