He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. It vosh plain he vent dat vay. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut.
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