Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe.
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