She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. “She is likely somewhere on the road or perhaps in town, finding victims. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. I like the way you shared it.
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