He described her privately to himself as a splendid girl. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. He was almost paralyzed with nervousness and desire. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. After all, life had still its pulsations. That’s as far as we go.
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