"Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. It is very possible that he will ask you to tell him before witnesses how you received your wound. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed.
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