‘No, you don’t. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed.
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