‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. “I saw his face in a mirror.
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