Melusine, used to the stark surroundings of the convent at Blaye, had no complaint to make. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him.
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