I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. ’ Arrested, Melusine eyed her with interest. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack.
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