The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. . Something softened in Melusine’s chest. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. . There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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