"Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. Melusine started back, blinking. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders.
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