Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. ’ Gerald laughed, and turned back to Melusine, who was frowning again. .
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