He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. "Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. Anna leaned over so that he needed only to whisper. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. Now it occurred to him that to show her the sealed letter would be a better way.
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