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At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She went across to the little window again, her back to Melusine. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. He loved to sneak up and stand ten feet or so behind you and just. Luck. Diable.
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