’ Melusine drowned in his kiss. If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. The evenings were dulcet and soft. ‘How fascinating. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle.
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