If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. It distressed and confused her that the girl should not come to her.
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