Diane spoke first. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. You’re all such good cooks. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. It was ended. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle.
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