” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. I want you to be my lover. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. "I eat for both.
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