’ ‘It is money you mean, no?’ Melusine asked with scorn. Vorsack sauntered into the room, sporting her usual toothy thin254 lipped grin. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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