If he escapes at all, it must be before our faces. ’ ‘This is not a new thing,’ Melusine snapped, goaded. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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