Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she, forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion. He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron.
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