The day had become suddenly overcast. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. Ramage?” he asked. ’ ‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention.
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