Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag.
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