She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. I'll try to think better of him in future. She hated living like that. ’ ‘Emile Gosse,’ Melusine said flatly, in the same language.
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