’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. She caught at the idea. ” “As sentinel.
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