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The prisoner, however, submitted more quietly than was anticipated. 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. She evolved a dim image of herself cooped up in a house under the benevolent shadow of Mr. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s.
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