But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. I shall barely be in time for the theatre. Softly she rose to her feet. ’ *** The tapping for which Melusine had been waiting came at last. The will to live had returned. By the thief-taker's command, the boat was then rowed toward a muddy inlet, which has received in more recent times the name of Execution Dock. . .
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