" Spurlock turned his dull eyes and tried to focus hers. Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints. He deserves none. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. She became angry with herself. A creeping numbness invaded her. “We parted— that night the best of friends.
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