The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. “You should quit. ’ ‘But you are not a surgeon,’ protested Melusine. He was all alone, too. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. ‘Melusine.
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