Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. ‘You wound me to the heart, Melusine. To disillusion her, forthwith. I will take her back. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked.
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