"How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. The thought of beauty became an obsession. “Bother it all!” she swore. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. "More than you'll pay for it, friend," snuffled the Jew.
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