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Quatrain

Excusez-moi,‖ Morse spoke in French. ―I am concerned I got on the wrong bus.
Can you tell me where this bus is heading?‖
―Carcassonne, Father.‖
―Ah, Carcassonne, thank you very much.‖
Morse returned to his children. ―We are on our way to Carcassonne.‖
―Where is that?‖ asked Zoey.
―It‘s about two hours east of here. We passed it on the way here while you were
sleeping before. We are going back in the direction we came.‖
―Can we go home when we get there?‖ asked Zoey.
―Yes, absolutely.‖
―Good,‖ said Zoey. ―I don‘t like France.‖ She went to sleep next to her brother.
Morse regretted bringing these children along. It was hard being a single father. He
hoped they would not be pursued to Carcassonne. Perhaps they could get a flight from
there. Morse stayed awake for another thirty minutes, constantly looking out the bus‘
back window to make sure they were not being followed. Then Morse took off his own
priest‘s robe and fell asleep, exhausted from the day‘s events.
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