“Hi John. Sheppard. I couldn't accept anything from you. ’ He paused, but Melusine caught the inference. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. Not wisely but too well. To divide the agony into two spheres so that one would mitigate the other. ’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered.
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