’ ‘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. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. We were to have breakfast there and return in the evening. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression.
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