’ Without stopping for a response, Gerald pushed past him and entered the convent just in time to hear Melusine protesting. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Then she saw him.
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