Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. “You must not. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai.
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