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. Dolls. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe.
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