It had been her home for hundreds of years. “Cool. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. They litter up the room.
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