’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. His eyes swept the company, and fell upon Melusine with a glare. It seems to me very silly. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon.
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