Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. None presented themselves to save him from that return. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt.
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