Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. Not a word passed between them. These were presently joined by a regiment of foot. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen.
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