‘There are no Remenhams left. She repeated this breathlessly. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. ‘And I am thinking now that you may be very suitable. He is big and powerful; one of those drinkers who show it but little outwardly.
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