She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. It's precisely what such a simpleton would do.
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