She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. Something as yet unformulated within her kept her estranged from all these practical aspects of her beliefs. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. Vorsack echoed him. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are.
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