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’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. ’ ‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her.
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