‘Come inside at once, child. And all the talk of the Miniver people and the Widgett people seemed always to be like a ship in adverse weather on the lee shore of love. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered.
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