We dine at seven-thirty. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. Melusine came back to the present to discover that tears were rolling down her cheeks.
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