“I wonder which of us is right,” she said. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. ’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath. “Oh. We felt like thieves. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies.
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