Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. Spurling. The Widow and her Child. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly. Earles strode into the waiting-room.
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