E. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. ‘He isn’t Valade, and the Comtesse de St Erme is absolutely furious. “I wish he had,” she said. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened.
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