He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. She crushed the letter in her hand. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting.
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