“Well?” he asked her tersely. If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. She took a few of his things before she scanned the area. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. F.
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