Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. “I’m not so sure. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. “Absolutely platonically,” she said.
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