’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. "I eat for both. But once I started, Forever Fifteen seemed to fly out of me like a bat out of Hell, virtually writing itself.
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