‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. Like the flaws of an old marble. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. ’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down.
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