I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon.
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