’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. Melusine jumped up, turning swiftly. Most unsatisfactory. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient.
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