"One'd think it rained fares, as well as blowed great guns. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. . “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. No need to do such things. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension.
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