They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. ’ ‘So this is the way you serve me,’ exclaimed Melusine, her quick temper flaring as she jumped up, slammed her hands on the desk and leaned towards him over it. “You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations. .
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