He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. ‘She would say, espéce de diable, this Melusine. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth.
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