“I am one who controls most of the Church, dear. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. A woman cannot change her soul.
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