” Lucy said, frowning. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. She had found the location of his firm on the internet on a library computer, tracing him to this place in New York where he practiced criminal law. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography.
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