The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. Besides, those things are deadly. ’ ‘I do not think so,’ Melusine agreed, still puzzled.
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