Expiation. . ’ ‘Melusine,’ repeated the old lady. Kind of knows it, too. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. I would be too 222 busy protecting you. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement.
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