A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. I won’t even ask. \" Lucy winced. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room.
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