He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. I always fall on my feet, you know. Like the flaws of an old marble.
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