‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. It might as well be Melusine herself. He did not stagger in the least.
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