She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. ” She stirred gently in her chair. . If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ‘You know?’ ‘Come, come, Melusine. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you.
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