I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. ’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. Be honest, and you will be happy. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. She bounced onto her bottom. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold.
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