“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said.
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