She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. She kept her eyes closed. So the world is choked with waste and waiting daughters. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock.
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