She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade. He listened. She looked at him curiously. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. Sorry to be so nosy. “Yes.
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