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” “I mean—” “I behaved like an idiot, that’s all. But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Upon this island whither he was bound there would be no diversions, breathing spells; the battle would be constant. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished.

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