Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it. . So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. At any rate she must see me. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime.
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