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His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. "I lost a very valuable one some time ago. " "Nonsense!" "Something's wrong. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. ‘If the boy had sense enough to send word to Gerald as he was told to do, then God be praised!’ ‘Parbleu,’ broke from Melusine, as she turned on him instead. “She must go her own way. I’ve never met any one like you.
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