“Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said. 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. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. You are one of the Immortals. Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors.
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