I just thought perhaps a different boy was in store for you. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. ’ Melusine shrugged. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. There’d only be endless rows if I was at home. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them.
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