The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window. It was now a quarter past twelve. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. ’ Mademoiselle, who had been nodding in agreement at Roding during the first part of this speech, abruptly turned to face Gerald again. I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter.
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