She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. All at once Melusine remembered Pottiswick, and the errand he had run. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure.
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