To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Piano wire, stained with black rust from the horrible deeds she had committed. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance.
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