And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. It did not seem quite fair. Pah! What a pig is this générale.
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