It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. And now she had sent Jack away. The annihilation of the Terror which fascinated her and troubled her dreams o' nights. She was honest again. ‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled.
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