‘You, Mademoiselle Charvill, are as unlike most of your sex as you can be. ’ ‘Gone off?’ repeated Melusine, her wrongs rising up to tear into her chest. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. " "To be sure he is," acquiesced Blueskin.
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