He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. ’ His colour deepened.
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