Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. Out of these he selected a faded parchment and restored the rest to safety. She wanted to think. Melusine did not pause, but reached down to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over.
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