‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so.
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