Above her head was an aura of white fire. Hobson was not 147 amused by the situation, which handled wrongly, could lose him his job. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. Annabel, I was lying. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write.
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