’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Giles's. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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