Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. " "Wear that to-night, then. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. ’ Melusine shrugged.
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