Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. ‘This is the way you tell me that you love me? You English idiot, you!’ He seized her wrists to hold her off, actually daring to laugh, much to Melusine’s increased fury. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes.
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