Madame Valade was that kind of woman. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. “You shall drive home with me in a hansom, if you will. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. By instinct. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity.
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