Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle.
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