“Good evening, Dorling,” he said. He had something across his knees. ’ ‘But Gérard knows. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. 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.
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