‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade. Sheppard, with startling eagerness. Then she saw the bodies piled in the corner. He's the only native I trust in these parts. He saw Enschede, making the empty sea, alone, alone, forever alone. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast.
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