‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. The plank hung over his head. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her.
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