But she was staring seaward and did not notice the offering. The latch came with a weak click. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. You know, Melusine. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God.
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