Mere formality. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage.
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