“I think she would,” she decided. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. She would not forgive me. ’ 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. ‘Whereas my need was very great indeed. " "Jack!" cried Thames, in indignant surprise.
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