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The chapel was crowded to excess. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. ’ ‘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. The new and the old cancelled out; his daughters became quasi-independent dependents—which is absurd. The thought made her exquisitely happy. I am loved. “You are mistaken, David. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied.
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