Melusine flung herself down the rest of the steps and through the doorway. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Journeying blindly half way across the world, this man had found his quarry. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly. Was she so bad a prospect? ‘No good, Melusine,’ said a new voice from the doorway.
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