Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. Every moment or two he bent over his patient.
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