Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. CHAPTER I. But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end. ‘That way. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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