" "A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master's orders. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. Melusine gritted her teeth. I want to be myself. A pig, yes, a little.
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