Already Cosette was her chosen friend. McClintock liked it. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. "I know the hand—ha! my friend! and I have murdered him! And my sister was thus nobly, thus illustriously wedded. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. The door to the apocalypse had opened! "Loves me?.
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