\"Has your heart melted, Lucia? Can you see the purposefulness of your future?\" Marina asked. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "Now your curiosity's satisfied, child," continued Kneebone, "perhaps, you'll attend to my orders.
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