"I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. Brendon was silent. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. So I dare say I was christened Jack.
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