‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ” He said. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him.
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