. ’ There was satisfaction in Melusine’s voice. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. There was no longer any risk in association with her. “It’s the spring,” he said. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods.
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