“Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. We’re handfuls. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows.
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