The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. ’ Gerald raised his brows. Melusine gritted her teeth. "As sure as one reasonably can be.
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