’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia.
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