Sheppard. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. Stanley, at the door. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches.
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