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E. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. ‘Well?’ she said. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends.
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