The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. She was reasonably certain why. ’ ‘But if I am with you, as André Valade, as your husband, an émigré—’ ‘Pah!’ Melusine spat. The air was pungent and leaden. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. “There is a secret.
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