You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. He looked at her, hurt. ‘It’s my belief she is a nun. Now then, missie—’ ‘Bon,’ said Melusine, interrupting him without ceremony, and paying no attention to the muskets that were pointing at her from two directions. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. The mighty concourse became for a moment still.
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