She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips.
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