He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. She was the type that people of every age gravitated to, naturally affable and kind to everyone. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room.
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