She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. And we are not traders looking at equivalents. ” Lucy replied. 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.
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