It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. ’ ‘But if I am with you, as André Valade, as your husband, an émigré—’ ‘Pah!’ Melusine spat. I finally got my own set of house keys when I turned eleven.
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