The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. . Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. It was a haunted place.
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