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He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. ’ ‘Oh, peste,’ exclaimed Melusine crossly. ” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true.
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