It was now a quarter past twelve. ’ She set down her glass with a snap. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. ” “That will follow,” said Kitty Brett—“that will follow.
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