’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. It was clear she wanted to get away from home, that she was impatient to get away from home. They thought that she was her own mother. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch.
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