Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. 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. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child.
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