Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. Then her fingers moved. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. The chamber rang with her shrieks. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. With the immediate necessities in train, Melusine fell to brooding on her situation, which she found insupportable. She twanged the catgut under her fingers.
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