’ Tears sprang to Melusine’s own eyes, and she clasped the hand she held more tightly. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. Footman or some such. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. ’ Melusine had to bite her lip to stop herself from interfering as, under Trodger’s direction, the two militiamen gave up their muskets into his keeping and lifted Jack.
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