She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. She is chosen to learn magic. Doesn’t know where he is, thought the captain.
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