If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. ‘It is that he needed me for his lie, no?’ Melusine said, striving to control the quiver in her voice.
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