“Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. ’ ‘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. " "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. He was looking pale and ill. I trust that no unpleasant rumours will be circulated before the election, at any rate.
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