Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan.
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