Melusine flung herself down the rest of the steps and through the doorway. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. " The Wastrel laughed. Overcome by his affliction, Mr. Thank goodness you’ll understand. Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all.
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