Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. Martin’s crush. I know. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish.
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