He reached for her, and she struck savagely. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. ‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them. Wood. His manner was deferential, even eager.
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