’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. She infused menace into her voice.
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