“No, he grabbed my hand. ‘This is not a place for a man. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. ’ ‘I fetched them with my clothes when the son of madame took me to see Marthe,’ Melusine admitted.
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