She turned her head to each side. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. No window. Stonily he had disengaged himself. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. ’ Melusine was beginning to fill with dread and a burgeoning of anger as the meaning behind his words began to penetrate.
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