Emile Gosse must know his only chance was to be rid of Melusine. I have just come from him. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is.
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