"Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. A sea voyage under sail will be the making of 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. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast.
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