So Mrs. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. Instantly seizing it, the young man placed it in the carriage, shut the door, and commanded his servants to drive off. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. 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. With nobody who cares … the both of us!" He was real in this moment.
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