She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. Melusine came in, picked up the lantern, and heard the library door bang open just as the panel clicked closed behind her. S. He’ll do. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks.
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