His literary instincts were reviving. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. Every one turned to her in astonishment. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. .
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