She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. ‘And me—’ ‘You, mademoiselle, are more trouble than you’re worth, and I’ll thank you to —’ ‘Hilary, don’t,’ said Lucy, and Melusine’s rising temper cooled a little. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. They will be safe.
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