’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. ” She looked up at him, and found he was watching her closely.
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