But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. ’ 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. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. The next morning came a compact letter from her father.
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