’ 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. I wouldn't trust a Malay, not if he were reared in the Vatican. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away.
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