’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. She would not forgive me. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. But Melusine was a little inclined to like this side of the major. “Is this Montague Street, W.
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