Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. ‘Major Gerald Alderley, mademoiselle, quite at your service. ’ Melusine heard a note of triumph in his voice and turned, a questioning look in her face. I don’t care WHAT happens. You know the sort of thing. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. Its importance had vanished with her abandonment of compromise. She is no longer mine; she is yours.
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