‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. 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 was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. John, he was between me and the door. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green.
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