‘And you!’ shrieked Melusine. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere.
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