When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. E. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not. "You are all right?"—anxiously. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate.
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