Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night.
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