The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. She had trouble outwitting him as he seemed to predict her words before he said them. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. But I won't be cheated of my prize. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall. . Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. That there gatekeeper would’ve called them out again. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger.
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