Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. And the bedchamber, for which Melusine instantly headed, was almost bright. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. Then Melusine jumped back into the fencer’s pose, on guard, the point of the wicked blade directed towards her enemy. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed.
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