She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly.
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