His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure.
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