She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Melusine flung herself down the rest of the steps and through the doorway. “I was really interested in his stuff. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house.
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