Now then. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet. Smith's melody had subsided. The major will not call. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf.
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