“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. His vicious abusiveness vanished.
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