” The lady stood away from the door. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. It’s not you—not a bit. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Melusine approached with caution and sat warily at one end, looking up at him expectantly. ‘But you will not be in a convent.
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