‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. ’ Roding started. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster.
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