Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily. You ought to know that.
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