Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. His fingers closed upon her hand. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Melusine came close again, and reached up a finger tentatively to the face depicted there.
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