’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it.
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