“Sure, I guess so. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely.
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