’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. And yet—I love you. I would not think so of you, Marthe. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. They happen to a man.
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