Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. If our young person hadn’t had the nurse part cut out, eh? She might have known more and done less. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. Something softened in Melusine’s chest.
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