Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. Mentally but not physically competent. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ‘And then you will be obliged to remain in France,’ she pointed out.
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