I can. pglaf. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. Kneebone nodded. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. She was beautiful once, Lucia. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. “I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts.
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