“I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. ’ ‘Do you indeed?’ rejoined the old lady, twinkling at him, and urging him towards the door. I fought ten lions at once. ’ 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 made herself a private declaration of liberty. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly.
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