“I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. ’ ‘But if I am with you, as André Valade, as your husband, an émigré—’ ‘Pah!’ Melusine spat. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua.
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