’ ‘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. Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. ‘I thank you. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. ’ With care, she gave it an English pronunciation. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted.
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