Water soaked her through in five minutes. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle.
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