Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. “Should I leave? Sounds like she is running out of food. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears.
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