Lucilla broke across Melusine’s thoughts. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. “What do you think of them?” Anna extended her critical survey and shrugged her shoulders.
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