’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. To be exact, it was just sixteen hours and twenty minutes. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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