Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one.
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