Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. ’ Melusine’s arm crept up around his neck. She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. Gerald’s breath caught. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes.
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