Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOC4yNTIuOTQgLSAzMC0wNi0yMDI0IDE5OjQxOjM1IC0gMTQzMzg0MjQ2NQ==
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