CHAPTER IX. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. ’ ‘But you do not make love,’ Melusine pointed out. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. Sheila found out. E.
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