“Lucy! Where is my daughter? Where have you. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. That is why you came here, isn’t it?’ ‘Alors, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once.
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