Cahill gave me a hall pass. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. Looking for something, or someone, probably. He knew she was out there, he could feel it. She gave her lips to his without resistance. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere.
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