Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. Unfortunately, I have little detail of the circumstances which surrounded the birth of the girl, and her subsequent removal to France. ’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her.
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