The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. " "Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you.
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