’ Melusine’s instant annoyance must have shown in her face. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. Yes, of course. We shall take an eternal farewell of each other. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte.
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