He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. Officers were these. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. But I will never—never return.
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