She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. Á bientot—Melusine.
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