No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. And me, I know very much of soldiers. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently.
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