She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. And not a worthy tome in sight. But it is not your name. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. Throughout the afternoon, while the doctor was giving her the first lesson out of his profound knowledge of life, her interest would break away continually, despite her honest efforts to pin it down to the facts so patiently elucidated for her. But she made no answer. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. "Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried. ‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door.
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