She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you.
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