“Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. And so —’ ‘And so she was able to become my—’ Melusine did not say it, for wet-nurse no longer seemed appropriate. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation.
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