’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered.
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