He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. 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. " "Didn't some of them … try to touch you?" "Not the true unfortunates. Mr. Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack.
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