Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. Still, I suppose Melusine can always sell the house. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said.
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