It might as well be Melusine herself. She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. "What should I do here alone if I were an enemy? But, come, don't let us waste time in bandying words, when we might employ it so much more profitably. Wood among them?" asked Jack, eagerly. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil.
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