‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. I'm not hungry. And she’s pluck to the backbone. You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has become the one desire of my life. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. “I’m a big boy, you know. Horrid!’ ‘Yes, but it has been extremely useful for me,’ argued Melusine, ‘so that I am very much pleased with this passage.
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