Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Rummage, my boy, do. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy.
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