‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Even he was not oblivious to it, and after about two minutes of awkward French kissing, he pulled away. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. Marry me. ‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. His perseverance was amply rewarded. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. I'll try a strong dose.
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