It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. I mean that the point is that vividness of perception is the essential factor of beauty; but, of course, vividness may be created by a whisper. She had never thought of him at all in that way before.
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