"It's strange the antipathy he bears to Sheppard. His father spoke for him. ’ 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. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. .
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