‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. As pretty as its owner. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade.
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