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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. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. . . ’ The possibility was indeed remote, for there had been no trouble with France since the Peace of Versailles had been signed six years ago. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. G. "Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. She asked no further questions for the moment. It would be the culmination of her plan. ” 74 She hung up the phone.
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