’ ‘Your groom? What for?’ ‘Get him to wait outside. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done.
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