’ Lucilla gaped. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. ’ 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. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. .
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