It was Celeste’s idea. He was not there. Only in the sunshine; they would not answer my whistle on cloudy days. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. “Where?” “To that ball. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window.
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