5. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely.
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