She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. But her heart kept on sinking.
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