I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. It is impossible. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane.
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