All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. She drew a long breath. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. . ’ Melusine’s eyes misted. ” She stepped into the curtains as Martin stared daggers.
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