"Where?" she cried. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. The image did not move.
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