The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ‘I told you I could handle her. Jonathan shook his head. ’ ‘Yes, but I have not gone,’ Melusine said impatiently.
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