But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. And I get myself dirty. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. ‘Very well, arrest me. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously.
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