’ Gerald raised his brows. You did not see me, I know. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. I have slept with it under my pillow. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back.
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