I have a good memory, you perceive, Sir Rowland. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. Go out there and head him off, will you? Tell him anything you like, but don’t let him in, and don’t tell him Melusine is here.
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