" "I am one-and-twenty," observed Jack. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. ‘What are you going to do now, child?’ Melusine sighed away the last of her distress. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. "But we'll find a way to make you open your lips presently. Another glass, Jack.
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