It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. She put her head out of the window. ‘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. “You would believe that life is kindled by the passions alone.
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