Where else could she go?’ ‘And there aren’t too many of them around,’ agreed Hilary on a gloomy note. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. When she finished her last cadence, Carolyn and Thomas begged her to play encores. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it.
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