’ ‘You,’ announced the lady, throwing an explosive glare at the captain, ‘are a person entirely without sense. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. Could it be him you mean?" "No. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly. When I'm alone I don't mind. ’ ‘Ah, then indeed I thank you,’ said Melusine on a sigh of relief, moved for once to smile at the captain.
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