‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. She looked steadfastly out. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. The one nearest to her, which must lead to the library. He flipped the television off. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. She saw his face change, how he regretted. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded.
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