She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. 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. I'm about to ring for supper.
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