’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple.
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