The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. ’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. Don’t stand gawping, man.
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