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‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. “I was lonely. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food.
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