For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. ‘Well then, Melusine,’ he said calmly, ‘it seems as if we must get you your dowry willy-nilly. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door.
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