’ 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 laid her hand softly upon his. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. ‘Move, you. Melusine flew after him, the sword held out before her and pointing directly at his retreating back. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. I love you—unendurably. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer.
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