Jack did not advance to meet her. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. ‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen.
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