‘Certainly I am not a nun. . ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. ’ Again, Melusine did not waste words. Her gratitude swelled within her.
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