” Cathy ruffled Lucy’s curly hair. I want to get away—to go to London. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. The Well Hole. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. ’ Gerald came into the room as he spoke, his eyes on the stormclouds rapidly gathering in Melusine’s face. There is strength in you— misguided.
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