‘Damnation! Too late. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. That’s the wonder of it. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. "That's for myself," rejoined Mrs.
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