She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. “Just think about what you are asking, John, please. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. 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.
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