The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. How did you meet him?’ ‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes.
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