“No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter.
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