Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. He smiled complacently. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction.
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