‘She ought to be. Sheppard, struggling to get free. She drew it out with shaking fingers. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed.
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