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The Roof and the Window. ’ Gerald grinned. ’ ‘I didn’t bring him,’ Gerald returned swiftly. She is no longer mine; she is yours. 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. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline.
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