She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could.
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