’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable.
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