No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. ’ 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. . Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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