As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. Melusine glanced at the walls as she sped down the four flights of stairs, and noted with relief that some paintings remained. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. .
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