But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy.
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