“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. " "Well, I've a job open; but I don't want you to get the wrong idea of it.
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