Rawad Dbouk

2%
Flag icon
“Ahh, Maman,” Sophie whined. “No whining,” Antoine said. “Not at your age.” Vianne and Sophie went into the kitchen, as they did each night, to their stations—Vianne at the deep copper sink, Sophie at the stone counter—and began washing and drying the dishes.
The Nightingale
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview