He smiled complacently. “So that’s the way it is. I am no one, Gérard. But supposing he is? Supposing he made but one misstep? Your island would be a haven of security. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. She isn't used to cities. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert.
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