“What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte.
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