Really they are the most beautiful things in the world. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. They don’t now. ’ ‘This is not a new thing,’ Melusine snapped, goaded. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman.
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