“Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. ’ ‘Comment?’ she demanded with some heat. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. And then suddenly—a relief. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace.
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