‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. ‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. And it's uncanny. It isn’t all.
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