Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. What more was to be done? Frith’s investigations had proved fruitful, and the man was now keeping an eye on Valade. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable.
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