She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. That you are not Valade at all, and that I am Melusine Charvill, the granddaughter of monsieur le baron, the general. “Very well,” he said. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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