Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. You have made enough sacrifices for her surely without this. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket.
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