His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. John looked at his feet bashfully. “Come sit with me, beautiful. Wood, in a taunting tone. ’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes.
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