And she is very young, younger than her years. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Indeed, it is rather a matter of whose death is close. Leonardo had taught her pretty well everything she could have need to know, when they had talked long at his bedside. She entered the kitchen. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim.
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