He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. “Michelle, I cannot give you my blessing. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. He would refuse to listen and absolve her unshriven.
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