She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. His voice had broken. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. Melusine was loath to admit how much more lonely since Gerald chose not to visit her. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings.
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