His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. Jack looked towards the door. ’ 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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