"What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. A wedding procession turned the corner. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. ‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. There are certain smells, certain tinges to the air. Do I blow off the head of a man with whom I am in love?’ ‘That,’ said Gerald, disengaging his hand and at last drawing her into his arms, ‘deserves a reward.
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