So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. “When they tap the roof,” she said, in a voice of authority, “you are to come out. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xNjcuOTQgLSAwOS0wNy0yMDI0IDEyOjI1OjA3IC0gNDU2MjI0MTU0
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