CHAPTER XVII. G'night, kids. “You stupid bitch. The pistol was lowered slightly. ‘Well,’ began Captain Roding, looking at Melusine, ‘you know those nuns of yours took up Valade—I mean, Gosse—and put him to bed to mend his wound, and I posted a guard outside his room so he couldn’t escape, for Gerald told you all that. It was not necessary to appease the wrath of human society; it was necessary only to appease that of God for the broken Commandment. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua.
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