" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. ” “You and your father?” Lucy asked. 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. Then came the great day. She heard him come in; the light burned on. You have taken my dagger. There stepped forth a tall brown man. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane.
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