"He stands before you," rejoined her son. Perhaps it was loneliness. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. Montressor’s guests were. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. I rarely set foot in London these days. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat.
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