The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers.
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