\"Hi Mark. ’ 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. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. “But I have no troubles. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. "Thames, this is no forgery.
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