She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. Well, I don’t think that’s fair. I think over all sorts of things. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice.
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