207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust.
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