A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. He'll be able to help us a little now. "I've won, after all. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Cathy chimed. She took his hand in hers.
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