‘R-rien. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. “Please let me drive you home. Perhaps I deceived you about it.
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