” For a moment she was grave. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints.
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