’ 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. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. So good an opportunity may never occur again.
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