A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. “You cannot give me ultimatums. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve.
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