He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream. The man was dangerous.
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