The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next.
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