On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Melusine gritted her teeth. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction.
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