"Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. For Melusine was on him again, the point of her sword lunging so that he backed up onto the dais. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. Book.
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