’ 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. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. Ramage did not know. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. She’s already spoken for. Kneebone and Mr.
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