Capes was something superadded. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. Melusine’s eyes blazed into his.
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