Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. ’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. Lucy was charmed; how peaceful the baby looked. She felt like a dried-up old woman.
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