Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. ’ ‘Certainly he is not a friend,’ Melusine agreed, ‘but he has gone, after all. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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