I'm just going to leave this story here without any commentary.
Happy Halloween!
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GONE WITH A BASILISK.
A LURID SHORT STORY.
Reginald passed his hand wearily over his aching brow, and glided languishing between the purple portières. Within was a chaos of whirling muslin and hungry faces swimming on a sea of passionate, throbbing music. There was a mist before his eyes; grinning heads floated restlessly by, gibbering in the shell-like ears of painted women. Amid the fevered maelstrom, one figure loomed large and close upon his attention. It was the hostess. A hot wet hand pressed his. “Law! what a squash!” he murmured in her ear, then plunged into the stream, and was borne away to the other side of the room.

