I burned it. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. I’ll have to think of something else. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. ’ ‘How can you say so?’ protested Melusine. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. She said it audibly, having learned long since that an audible prayer was a concentrated one.
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