There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. The lad hesitated. And so —’ ‘And so she was able to become my—’ Melusine did not say it, for wet-nurse no longer seemed appropriate. She sat perfectly still, however. I'll tell you something. The face that looked down upon Ann Veronica was full of amiable intention.
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