Perhaps I am still mad. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. Melusine’s eyes shifted. “I’m not nearly so sure as you. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. I packed them with the other few things I owned. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. It reverberated in the silence.
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