‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. Hollo rumbled in his throat. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. But I dare not accept it. I don’t want you to be sad. Melusine came back to the present to discover that tears were rolling down her cheeks. ‘Deaf? Deaf? I’ll have you know, miss—’ ‘Do not have me know anything,’ interrupted Melusine crossly, and digging into her habit, produced the fateful dagger that had cut Gerald’s hand.
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