‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. I had to stay in school no matter how sick I was. She never calls herself ‘Alcide.
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