Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. net Transcribers Note: Obvious typesetter errors from the original corrected in this etext. They have retired.
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