’ ‘Woof!’ The sergeant appeared nonplussed, and Melusine pressed her advantage. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. I have had a good many desperate engagements in my time, and have generally come off victorious.
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