It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. ‘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.
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