" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. ’ ‘Are you off your head? Think I don’t know you’re up to some mischief or other?’ Melusine feigned innocence. I’ve got a streak of male. But he dismissed that because then she would ask her lover and not him all these things.
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