It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights. “Ann Veronica,” he said. .
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