’ ‘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 doesn’t know. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers.
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