But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. “Why should it matter?” he said. She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound.
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