’ ‘This is not a new thing,’ Melusine snapped, goaded. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. And the less “anything” happened the better. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. Her tone was hoarse with passion. You are not my husband. Your life, and that of your child, are in my power.
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