A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. She swallowed hard. ‘Does she need a dowry for that?’ ‘Melusine believes so, and that is what counts. Even when you've a knave to deal with, let your actions be plain, and above-board. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing.
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