‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Anna looked at her, startled. ‘And this is where you have been all the time?’ ‘I would have been back in a day, I promise you. " "Excepting your father. The last few months had not dealt kindly with Mr. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town.
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