’ To Gerald’s chagrin, Melusine regarded Hilary with approval. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. .
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