Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. This way there will be not so much shame, and the vicomte will let them remain. Melusine sighed with frustration. F. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years.
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