She turned back into the hall. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. "I yield to fate. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 19-09-2024 07:31:45
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