In the early hours of the morning, unable to bear the suspense any longer, Melusine had ventured to explore the mansion, the lantern she had brought in hand, commenting to herself all the time on the state of the place and the difficulties of her task, and having no idea of the consequences she was bringing on herself thereby. Á bientot—Melusine. “How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom.
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