Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. . ’ ‘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. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank.
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