“I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. ‘Dare I guess at the reason for your sudden interest in émigrés, Gerald?’ ‘Lucilla,’ barked Hilary warningly. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers.
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