’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor.
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