Melusine cursed herself for his injury. “I’m not gentle. Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. Surely he was imagining this picture. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. "I took the course I pursued to serve you.
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