I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. . ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris.
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