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"You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. 1. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. That was supposed to be Madame Valade.

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