There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. I am sure. " "That is your fault, none of mine. " "Ah, yes. ” She stirred gently in her chair. ’ 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.
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