‘There is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’ Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders. I cannot do it, David. Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. It was empty. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. I want her to tell me the whole truth about this extraordinary marriage.
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