’ Shock suspended Melusine’s breath and she gasped. “I wonder if it is. ” She turned herself to one side and propped her head in her hand. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. But I have not done so, and will not.
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