I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn over in their graves. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. Officers were these. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself.
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