He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly.
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