Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. Now keep still. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. "Yes; but what is good isn't always proper. " And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke.
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