I wasn’t. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back.
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