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. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. Anna was singing as she used to sing. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. ' Why," said Ruth, "you did not read that to us.
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