The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. It was his belief that the French had enough troubles of their own in these difficult times without bothering to nose out British business. “This wonderful affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?” He hesitated. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. She drew her naked arms around herself.
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