His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. It was in this state that Mark McCloskey caught her. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. ’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. . His smile faded.
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