She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. She wore a wonderful dress of turquoise blue, made by a great dressmaker for a function which she knew very well now that she would never attend. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. It’s just hard to keep things from her. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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