‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. I know why. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. 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. I am sure. ” “The difficulties on my own side I can deal with,” he answered.
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