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’ But I made sure it was you. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. ’ Melusine sighed in a satisfied way. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated.
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