‘They weren’t no soldiers. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. ‘Not from the nuns, no.
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