\"Mike, don't call Lucy a liar. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall.
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