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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. She could no longer wait. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. ’ Gerald did not speak, but there was a look in his face that made Melusine glad she had at last had the courage to confide in him.
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