Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. “Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone. “There is a secret.
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