” “I was late. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. There are a thousand questions I'd like to ask you, but I sha'n't ask them. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice. Rebellious and resentful, Melusine decided there and then that she would do exactly that, come what may.
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