Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat.
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