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Her heels made contact with Rhea’s knees and hobbled her with a crack. ’ ‘We are not all of us so empty-headed, Melusine,’ pleaded Miss Froxfield. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. Then he sensed the trap.

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