Before or after?” Lucy paled. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. Twenty-one, twenty-two.
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