So this was what it was all about. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. All at once Melusine remembered Pottiswick, and the errand he had run. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. .
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