Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Escape was now impossible. 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. Brown or Jones, I dare say. “One can talk without undertones, so to speak,” said Ramage.
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