” Ennison laughed softly. 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. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. " "Well, so long as he gets on his feet in the end. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded.
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