Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. Perhaps I am still mad. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend.
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