He was damned if he knew what to do. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. Melusine whirled. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated.
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