She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. “I will be off,” she declared. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. ' That has always haunted me. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time.
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