Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. “I was hoping to be able to secure a few minutes’ conversation with you, Miss Pellissier. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. ‘I haven’t been so much entertained since I left the Army. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t.
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