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. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. "Who took it thence?" "Thames Darrell; the boy at your side. " "But, Mac. Stanley poured wine.
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