’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. “I’ll be hanged if I do.
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