The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. ‘There is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’ Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight.
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