She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. ‘Deaf? Deaf? I’ll have you know, miss—’ ‘Do not have me know anything,’ interrupted Melusine crossly, and digging into her habit, produced the fateful dagger that had cut Gerald’s hand. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. Twenty guineas, mind.
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