He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. She spoke slowly.
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