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Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. Balked, Melusine halted. E. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back.
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