On the way home he was still thoughtful. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. "Were it not for that, he would indeed be a blessing and a comfort to me. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. And listen, John.
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