It was not a difficult affair. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. She is very bright. I must have this beast brought to London with me, that is seen. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips.
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