I loathe this room. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. He waited the pleasure of Monsieur. And here's the proof. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. “No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s.
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