She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. ‘Oh, peste. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. Engines were brought to play upon Wild's premises, and upon the adjoining houses. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre.
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