’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. Felix. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery.
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