‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. You are too kind. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object.
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