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Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. "Poor Mrs. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. β He said mischievously. β He left her where she was, crying in the doorway. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. I have found you. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order βto distract his mind.
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