Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. "I am one. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it.
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