This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. Her face expressed nothing. Proper enough now, when he could not help himself, but the habit would be formed; and when he was strong again it would become the normal role, hers to give and his to receive. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch.
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