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. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. It was Celeste’s idea. He waited. "I'll fetch it.
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