’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. Sheppard's time it was even more beautiful than at present, when the hand of improvement has proceeded a little too rashly with alterations and repairs. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. .
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