A town called Foster. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. He tried to make love to me. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked. But, no. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said.
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