The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. ’ ‘Because I was a servant in the vicomte’s house? Things have changed.
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