’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. He could lose himself for hours at a time. She relented out of exhaustion, yet he would not let her near Marina, his embrace tightening. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. My reception at West Kensington you know of.
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