. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. ’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath. “It does nothing but sit there.
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