“Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. ’ Melusine shrugged. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house.
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