Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. Shoplatch. Come every day to see you was flourishing. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them.
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