"The name and rank of Thames Darrell's father," said the knight. He filled his pipe slowly. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins. Good-bye, aunt. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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