“Did it seem like I was in pain to you?” She smirked. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. ‘But she will not shoot you,’ Melusine told him flatly. " Sir Rowland looked at her for a moment, as if he meditated some terrible reply.
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