He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. ‘What are you going to do now, child?’ Melusine sighed away the last of her distress. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said.
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