ToC Mrs. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes.
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