But I do not even care if I am absurd. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself.
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