‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. "Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. “My dear, can you see in this light? I think I would like to get in.
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