’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. The smile had become a laugh. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. "Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly.
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