After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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