Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. It was Celeste’s idea. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow.
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