‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Stanley, at the door. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide.
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