Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Don't shake so.
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