To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly.
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