" "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. But there have been times, Anna, when your work has startled me. Your Mom says to come downstairs for dessert. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness.
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