The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. “I am perfectly certain that that man meant to be rude to me. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him.
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