“It’s—private. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. ’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. It has become a part of the order of my life. She opened her mouth and inhaled water.
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