It was a grand life. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. . ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. Come and help me pack. I wonder what it was. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. I was quite as much annoyed as you were to see Mr.
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