But when it came to broaching them, it proved to be much more difficult than she had supposed. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce.
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