" "Robbed him!" screamed the widow. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. I know who she is, and I know that she has been cheated somehow by the people calling themselves Valade. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. Even our coarseness.
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