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” “When is Michaelmas Day?” said Ann Veronica, a little abruptly. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. Her tone was icy. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. Once before—but that had been different. ’ Melusine glared. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean.
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