He was nearly wincing. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. ” “Sooner or later. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. “There is my aunt,” she said. ” He contradicted himself by plunging into an exposition of motifs. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. He had taken it back. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. . “Did it seem like I was in pain to you?” She smirked.
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