The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. 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. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement.
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