“Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly. It isn’t. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Bah. ’ ‘But you are excessively clever, Jacques,’ cried Melusine, relief flooding her.
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