“It isn’t fair. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that. Prudence twinkled at them, and reached out to pat Melusine’s hand. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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