" "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. ‘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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