She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything.
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