Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. But we can’t help noticing. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed. ‘This is not love, Marthe. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip.
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