That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. No doubt she was wondering what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now.
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