The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth.
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