He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. ‘I have justice. Bête, she told herself fiercely. “Yeah. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats.
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