Her tone was hoarse with passion. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. “A serious question. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. The one I have is a duplicate. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it.
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