’ And with that he went off to the City, stern and silent, leaving his bacon on his plate—a great slice of bacon hardly touched. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. He figures them out, though. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. ’ Melusine caught the fellow eyeing her with resentment and beckoned as she called out to him. “That’s what you’re going to wear.
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