’ ‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. That's a queer yarn. He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate. Wood. Have you not given your life to God? Do you not repent?’ Coming to the bed, Melusine sat beside her old nurse and took hold of one of her hands. I—I hurt myself. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. ’ 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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