’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective.
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