The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Then she shrugged. Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room.
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