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. She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences.
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