’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. I got myself locked up to cool off.
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