F. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds.
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