Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. \"Just fine, John. And, if you'll give me such a smack of your sweet lips, Miss, as you've just given Thames, I'll take myself off in less than no time. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. It would be too mortifying.
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