Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. ’ ‘Woof!’ Sergeant Trodger’s eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he seized his prisoner’s arm again. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks.
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