’ ‘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. It was something you were supposed to return, so she raced through all the television shows that she had watched over the years. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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