“It’s the stir of spring,” he said. A narrow passage at the north of the Stone Hall led to the Bluebeard's room of this enchanted castle, a place shunned even by the reckless crew who were compelled to pass it. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees.
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