” “It isn’t necessary,” they both declared breathlessly. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. ’ Melusine glared.
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