Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Still, I suppose Melusine can always sell the house. ‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this expedient. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view.
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