Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. ’ ‘What, Madame Valade?’ demanded Gerald. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent.
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