The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. Small, but eminently serviceable. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter.
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