The will to live had returned. His head turned sideways towards the noise, his brows scowling. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. It had been a part of the vast domain of the servants in the house’s earlier incarnation. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. Something as yet unformulated within her kept her estranged from all these practical aspects of her beliefs.
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