On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. 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. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night.
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