One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. ‘No one is here, Melusine, except you and I. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. ‘Well?’ she said. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion.
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