Should be home soon. It might as well be Melusine herself. Drummond patted him on the shoulder. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. They both listened intently. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. "Not that I know of," replied the carpenter, who had in some degree recovered his confidence. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby.
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