\"Bye, Michelle. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. “You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. Take them, and may they prove as serviceable to you as I desire. ’ 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.
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