At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. ’ Melusine wrenched her wrists out of his hold and stepped back, digging into her skirts, which she had adequately prepared some days ago. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense.
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