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Melusine’s eyes blazed into his. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the author. It was eleven o'clock. Take, if you please, your own pistol. They don’t count, and I don’t care. There you will be, in an inner temple.
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