’ 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. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. "Adieu, my worthy uncle. And listen, John.
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