Melusine shrieked an imprecation, and ran the length of the aisle, searching for the weapon she had thrown. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. She was, she guessed, close to the library. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred.
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