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‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. It was the grand nursery of vice. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 17-09-2024 11:20:18
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