Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. She shuddered as his naked body pressed against her. He glanced up at the coachman. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea.
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