The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife. Then he had gone away. Her father was an astute businessman and a hard worker, but also handsome in the face which had aided partly his ascension to the Guild.
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