“Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. ‘You do not say, “I am a gentleman born. Her scream shook the windows of the sedan. . . 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. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping.
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