‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. ’ ‘Certainly he is not a friend,’ Melusine agreed, ‘but he has gone, after all. " "I imagine I've been in a kind of trance.
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