The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. 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. "I rather fancy, as you Britishers say, that you know the nature of my visit?" "I'm an American.
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