” He crossed his arms. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Their faces had bite marks that were hers. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR.
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