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Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 19:10:06