‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. "My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her.
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