An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern.
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