I loathe this room. Spurling, drily. ‘It is that he needed me for his lie, no?’ Melusine said, striving to control the quiver in her voice. I couldn’t help the thought. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. ‘If he needed sanctuary, it raises grave doubts about his activities. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. Surely our advice would have been worth having, at any rate.
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