He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. “Of course, I remember now. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol.
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