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. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. It had ceased to beat. “The things involved in it are,” he answered gravely.
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