He told her something about music, the great world outside. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. When he begins to notice things, I want you to trap his interest, to amuse him, keep his thoughts from reverting to his misfortunes. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. But it is my fault.
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