Kneebone?" "He'd better not," muttered Blueskin. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. ’ ‘But where then is Gosse?’ demanded Melusine. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing.
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