She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. ‘You wish a life of obedience? So be it, Mademoiselle Charvill. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. ‘You mean there isn’t any evidence of a break-in. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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