” “I promise,” Annabel declared. CHAPTER VII. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. “It sounds too ridiculous.
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