’ 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. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. . The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. She broke this promise when she told me that my mother was this Mary, and not Suzanne Valade at all.
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