There was a gentle rustling of skirts. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Your husband could have told you that. " "Get hence," continued Mrs.
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