*** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine.
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