Do you know, I envy you. ’ 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. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. Suddenly she thrust her head out of the window. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. . ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave.
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