‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. How could he have betrayed her so cruelly? How could he lie and claim her as dead? Sebastian studied her carefully as she refused to cry and became like a pillar of stone. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door.
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