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. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. For the sort of love-making you think about. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time.
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