"The feeling is dead within my breast. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. " "Order those who choose to obey you," rejoined the lady scornfully. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there.
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