He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. He talked at the blackboard in a pleasant, very slightly lisping voice with a curious spontaneity, and was sometimes very clumsy in his exposition, and sometimes very vivid. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Nowhere could he see that reaching, menacing Hand. Melusine grasped the hilt of the sword she had been carefully holding, and came out into the light.
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