“I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. ‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them. Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains.
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