‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been.
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