Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. I know something about men. ‘You know?’ ‘Come, come, Melusine. You act your part capitally, but it won't do.
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