The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. ‘I am done, Gérard.
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