“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. Very well, then. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. She was nearly dead. Then, her body still tense with the atoms of anger, she sat down upon the edge of the bed and rocked from side to side. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. Wherein she differed but little from her young sisters. ’ ‘Bon,’ exclaimed Melusine, triumph soaring.
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