They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. “Forgive you, indeed. Wood. A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France. Melusine choked on a laugh, and Gerald at once seized the initiative, speaking in a tone deliberately soothing. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. A bumper round, gentlemen. "That I can't say.
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