His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. It had ceased now, but as he closed in on the area, a faint muttering came to his ears. I had a perfect shoal of callers. “Too greasy for me. ’ There was sense in what she said, Melusine was obliged to concede. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years.
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