‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. There was going to be no quarter between these two. ’ Melusine shrugged. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal.
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