There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. "What is a sing-song girl?" she asked. We are nuns. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit.
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