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‘And nor do I. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. Gianfrancesco was a contact of mine, I had allied myself to his father before him, and unbeknownst to anyone, to his Great-great-granduncle during the time of Crusades. " At this juncture, the door opened, and Thames entered the room.
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