"Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes. I want to stand between you and all the force and vileness of the world. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle.
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