” He was slightly tipsy. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. “Yes, I remember,” she said. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way.
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