The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust.
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