‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful papers,’ Gerald went on. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. We have to get them to let us in for the profits of their business, and in return we ask them to—dinner. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. He resumed his listening. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright.
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