“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. Horrible doubts assailed her. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. My eyes are open to you.
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