’ 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. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Buck up.
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