—BRENDON. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. His spirits began to rise.
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