You are the most beautiful, the most desirable thing I have ever met in this world. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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