He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. They then swiftly mounted the stairs, and stopped before the audience-chamber.
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