She drank it obediently. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. ‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand.
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