Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. His spirits began to rise. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all others should have been so deceived. . . It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. I HAD to. “I MUST speak to you,” he said.
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