’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. “I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. Gifts came from Florence: rubies and emeralds, a beautiful statue of Santa Maria for their garden grotto, a gorgeous silk tapestry of a hunting scene that alone made the price of her dowry look paltry. This fracture was the handiwork of Jack Parrot (otherwise called Jack the Grinder), who broke into the palace of the Bishop of Norwich. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Everybody talking of you. .
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