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Of course, at home there would have been questions. “But your hair,” he gasped. ’ Melusine did not forget. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him.
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