’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. And let us go on with our evening. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on.
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