8. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. Next instant, Melusine’s blade sank into Gosse’s flesh. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you.
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