’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory.
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