A series of photographs were taken of them: her on the stairs, the couple of them on the stairs, the couple of them in the kitchen, him pinning a red rose corsage with great care and acute sexual frustration. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. Even an unlikely episode such as this could not be ignored.
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