‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. ‘Like a vision she were. Not MY affair. Melusine, intent on the luckless Kimble, did not care. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing.
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