Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. I am called Melusine. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill.
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