’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. Gerald lost his head.
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