” She found it difficult to begin thinking, and indeed she was anything but clear what it was she had to think about. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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