Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Lucy dug out an old light gray cotton miniskirt that had shrunk on Shari in the wash. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream.
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